If you have the good fortune to live outside this show they call Ireland, you must be laughing. You should be grateful as well, in between your hysterical shrieking. Those of us living here are not amused.
This week we landed ourselves in another fine mess. Or rather, the banks did by putting on their version of the Laurel and Hardy Show.
We all know that Ireland Inc is a small side street theatre compared to the bigger Broadway productions. Everybody knows everybody who is anybody in this country. Business conducts itself in an incestuous manner really.
This week, Sean Fitzpatrick, chairman and former chief executive of Anglo Irish Bank, was found to have fooled the auditors for the last eight years by under-declaring his director loans from his own bank. At the time of the annual audit, he would simply transfer his loans to Irish Nationwide Building Society and when the auditors had completed their work and presented the accounts, he would merely transfer it back. Some thing like a corner-shop owner camouflaging from the auditors the fact that he eat too many of the Jelly Beans himself by adjusting the stock figures, you might think.
No quite so, I'm afraid.
Our esteemed Anglo banker was in hock to his own bank to the tune of €80million plus, not something you'd want made public. Questions might be asked and that wouldn't reflect well on the gung-ho image of the proactive Anglo-Irish Bank, not to mention the bould Seanie himself. The whole embarrassing show is only beginning as we write.
Sean promptly resigned when the writing was on the wall and his chief executive, David Drumm, followed him.
In the financial industry stretched parameter, the crime was being found out. The action wasn't illegal we were assured. It was unethical, but not illegal.
Shades of Roddy Molloy stating that he was entitled to first-class travel as head FAS. Entitled, no less? Entitled by whom?
Seanie Fitz is the epitome of the image of the financial sector; “we rule the world and we couldn't give a damn about the little people” attitude.
The kings of the grey suit screw all before them. Big swinging dicks will close little businesses by not giving them an overdraft of €5,000 but will lend billions to their buddies in the incestuous world in which they operate.
The Financial Regulator, a supposedly independent monitoring authority, didn't do its job - it knew about Fitzpatrick's scam since January 2008, perhaps it knew it all along for all we know - and told nobody.
The Central Bank is supposed to be wary of this sort of activity and either about it and done nothing - a crime - or didn't know about it should have which is incompetence. Either way, the banks have fooled the people, the Government, their auditors and the regulatory authorities.
It all adds up to a farcical production not quite worthy of playing Broadway (Wall Street has cornered that end of the market) but definitely fit for Las Vegas where gambling with other peoples money is an industry.
Once again, the greedy evil bastards that are bankers have shamed the country and made us look like Laurel and Hardy in the eyes of the world.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
LESSONS LEARNED THE HARD WAY
Where will it all end for little old Ireland?
Where could you possibly begin to project where it will all end?
Well, one could take a quick look at our northerly neighbour, Iceland, and you might gain some indication of the destination that the descending road we are on will take us. It is a town called the IMF.
The International Monetary Fund is the last port of call for bankrupt countries. You don’t call them however; they march in on you without as much as word of greeting.
The IMF is in local terms the equivalent of the court sheriff calling. The IMF will let you keep the milk and perishable foods needed for your family but they will take the fridge.
Iceland is a country of 300,000 people. In the last seven years, they prospered on being a centre for international financial trade. Previously they were fishermen. They made money out of paper, sometimes quite literally. Like the IFSC in Dublin, they provided a compliant tax and lax regulatory regime allowing vast amounts of money flow through their systems whilst reaping a fortune in fees and commissions. In a country with such a small population, it did not take long for the effects to permeate all the way down the food chain.
Like Ireland, Iceland grew prosperous and arrogant. House prices climbed through the roof making accidental millionaires out of ordinary folk , money from all over the world flowed in to the coffers of the banks, (including billions from the English County Councils), attracted by the high interest rates offered. Shops sold out of expensive stock. Fancy cars never seen before, except on television, soon jammed the streets of Reykjavik. New retail outlets opened up to gobble up the sudden stream of cash in the system. Igloos melted with the heat of all this frantic activity.
The Icelandic banks, strengthened by all this cash, puffed out their tiny chests and decided to take on the world. They bought other banks and financial institutions in countries throughout the world, including Ireland (Merrion Stockbrokers).
Remember, this is a country roughly the size of Blanchardstown in population and a little bigger than Ireland in size.
Like the Irish on the property scene, the Icelanders punched away above their weight in the international financial boxing arena. They were feared wherever they entered a country, targeting banks and stock broking institutions with relish.
Sadly, however, reality hit home when the credit crunch bit worldwide. When the big boys that dominated the world for a century like Lehman Brothers fell, what hope had our vastly leveraged Icelandic raiders? Their strength was based on the high share price of the bank and the strong capital ratio brought about because of insanely high interest rates paid to attract international depositors.
When international depositors took fright at what was happening worldwide and pulled their money back to their own countries that guaranteed the deposits, the house of cards that was the Icelandic financial giant tumbled to the ground. The IMF now runs Iceland with the cold authority of a Nazi concentration camp commander.
Warren Buffett, that great American investor, is fond of saying that you only know who is swimming naked when the tide goes out.
Back home in Ireland, the tide is retreating fast. Some obvious candidates are naked, but so too are some very surprising ones. We are in the middle a financial tsunami not known in our history. The government, paralysed by inertia and incompetence, dither and pretend it will be alright on the night. We await our fate, rather than being proactive and trying to input some direction to it.
Conditions are perfect. The IMF is on the way!
Where could you possibly begin to project where it will all end?
Well, one could take a quick look at our northerly neighbour, Iceland, and you might gain some indication of the destination that the descending road we are on will take us. It is a town called the IMF.
The International Monetary Fund is the last port of call for bankrupt countries. You don’t call them however; they march in on you without as much as word of greeting.
The IMF is in local terms the equivalent of the court sheriff calling. The IMF will let you keep the milk and perishable foods needed for your family but they will take the fridge.
Iceland is a country of 300,000 people. In the last seven years, they prospered on being a centre for international financial trade. Previously they were fishermen. They made money out of paper, sometimes quite literally. Like the IFSC in Dublin, they provided a compliant tax and lax regulatory regime allowing vast amounts of money flow through their systems whilst reaping a fortune in fees and commissions. In a country with such a small population, it did not take long for the effects to permeate all the way down the food chain.
Like Ireland, Iceland grew prosperous and arrogant. House prices climbed through the roof making accidental millionaires out of ordinary folk , money from all over the world flowed in to the coffers of the banks, (including billions from the English County Councils), attracted by the high interest rates offered. Shops sold out of expensive stock. Fancy cars never seen before, except on television, soon jammed the streets of Reykjavik. New retail outlets opened up to gobble up the sudden stream of cash in the system. Igloos melted with the heat of all this frantic activity.
The Icelandic banks, strengthened by all this cash, puffed out their tiny chests and decided to take on the world. They bought other banks and financial institutions in countries throughout the world, including Ireland (Merrion Stockbrokers).
Remember, this is a country roughly the size of Blanchardstown in population and a little bigger than Ireland in size.
Like the Irish on the property scene, the Icelanders punched away above their weight in the international financial boxing arena. They were feared wherever they entered a country, targeting banks and stock broking institutions with relish.
Sadly, however, reality hit home when the credit crunch bit worldwide. When the big boys that dominated the world for a century like Lehman Brothers fell, what hope had our vastly leveraged Icelandic raiders? Their strength was based on the high share price of the bank and the strong capital ratio brought about because of insanely high interest rates paid to attract international depositors.
When international depositors took fright at what was happening worldwide and pulled their money back to their own countries that guaranteed the deposits, the house of cards that was the Icelandic financial giant tumbled to the ground. The IMF now runs Iceland with the cold authority of a Nazi concentration camp commander.
Warren Buffett, that great American investor, is fond of saying that you only know who is swimming naked when the tide goes out.
Back home in Ireland, the tide is retreating fast. Some obvious candidates are naked, but so too are some very surprising ones. We are in the middle a financial tsunami not known in our history. The government, paralysed by inertia and incompetence, dither and pretend it will be alright on the night. We await our fate, rather than being proactive and trying to input some direction to it.
Conditions are perfect. The IMF is on the way!
Monday, December 8, 2008
Petty Politics
There have been many repercussions from the various daft and ill-thought Budget proposals, which were enacted in the Finance Bill published last week.
Such was the apparent haste in dreaming up the cuts that they needed to implement to shore up the nations finances, that Brian Lenehan had to row back on many of the ideas and scrap some altogether.
What we got was a hotch–potch of ridiculous cost cutting measure with all the imagination of a lump of wood. Far from stimulating the economy, these brainless measures will stifle the country into a depression.
We could talk all day about the gang of idiots that now run this country but let us stick to one item that was formalised into the Finance Bill last week despite much protest.
The Government will save €10 million on not distributing cervical cancer vaccines to girls from 12-year old upwards. The Minister for Health, Mary Harney had committed to introducing this measure before the Budget. She made a very compelling case at that time for the need to do this. It is estimated by the medical profession that two in ten women will get cervical cancer in their lifetime. These victims will all die from it; there is no cure or lasting treatment for this virulent form of cancer.
The wonderful medical breakthrough in inventing this vaccine and allowing it to be administered to young girls would have saved thousands of lives in the future. Not alone that but the agony of kids and partners losing a loved mother would spared to so many more.
How dare Mary Harney allow this to happen? A miserable €10m, half the weekly budget of that useless body, FAS.
Of course, Harney was well treated by those assholes in that particular quango, including her husband, Brian Geogheon, who was once head of this so-called organization. Blow jobs in Florida, private jets and limos to ferry her and her entourage around sort of blinds you to reality. If the little people were suffering, well it was their problem. Let them eat cake. Let them die for the sake of a petty €10 million euro.
As a woman, could she not appreciate what this breakthrough could do for her gender companions throughout Ireland?
Could she not have told the Finance Minister that this was sacred? That it could not to be touched by the unseen mandarins of the Civil Service who were advising him. She let down the women of Ireland in a shameful way. For that, Mary Harney, you deserve only one title – BITCH! Sam Maguire
Such was the apparent haste in dreaming up the cuts that they needed to implement to shore up the nations finances, that Brian Lenehan had to row back on many of the ideas and scrap some altogether.
What we got was a hotch–potch of ridiculous cost cutting measure with all the imagination of a lump of wood. Far from stimulating the economy, these brainless measures will stifle the country into a depression.
We could talk all day about the gang of idiots that now run this country but let us stick to one item that was formalised into the Finance Bill last week despite much protest.
The Government will save €10 million on not distributing cervical cancer vaccines to girls from 12-year old upwards. The Minister for Health, Mary Harney had committed to introducing this measure before the Budget. She made a very compelling case at that time for the need to do this. It is estimated by the medical profession that two in ten women will get cervical cancer in their lifetime. These victims will all die from it; there is no cure or lasting treatment for this virulent form of cancer.
The wonderful medical breakthrough in inventing this vaccine and allowing it to be administered to young girls would have saved thousands of lives in the future. Not alone that but the agony of kids and partners losing a loved mother would spared to so many more.
How dare Mary Harney allow this to happen? A miserable €10m, half the weekly budget of that useless body, FAS.
Of course, Harney was well treated by those assholes in that particular quango, including her husband, Brian Geogheon, who was once head of this so-called organization. Blow jobs in Florida, private jets and limos to ferry her and her entourage around sort of blinds you to reality. If the little people were suffering, well it was their problem. Let them eat cake. Let them die for the sake of a petty €10 million euro.
As a woman, could she not appreciate what this breakthrough could do for her gender companions throughout Ireland?
Could she not have told the Finance Minister that this was sacred? That it could not to be touched by the unseen mandarins of the Civil Service who were advising him. She let down the women of Ireland in a shameful way. For that, Mary Harney, you deserve only one title – BITCH! Sam Maguire
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
God help us all!
We have been away for a while and look what happens! The country goes down the tube. Is it a coincidence? Did our absence allow those supposedly in charge of the banana republic fall asleep at the wheel?
I think no, somehow. Our degree of influence may extend to getting Obama elected as US president but to achieve anything positive in getting Brian Cowen to run this little country of four million is beyond our realm I fear.
When Cowen was elected Taoiseach this scribe appealed for a chance to allow him show his mettle. He was carried shoulder-high around Clara and happily supped pints for the media. Here was an ordinary guy, just like Bertie, except he had a brain that would be employed for the good of the country, not protecting his political arse in Drumcondra.
Difficult times meant there was little chance of a honeymoon period normally accorded to incoming office holders. We forgave him some early lapses, wondered aloud about Mary Coughlan as his choice of Tainaiste, but left well enough alone for him and his team to get on with it.
Boy, did we get it wrong!
We know there is a world crisis, unprecedented in its force and effect. But, eighteen months ago Ireland was regarded by all and sundry across the world for the healthy position of its finances. We had fifteen good years to shore us up for the rainy day. Batten down the hatches and we’ll get over this hump, we said smugly to ourselves.
Look at us now. My God, look at us now!
Once again, we are the paupers of the world. It was all an illusion. Daggers and mirrors, as Bertie might say. We are penniless. Much worse, we owe a fortune and the perfect storm has erupted over our heads. We never put a penny by for the first rainy that came. We blew the good times.
Tax revenue falling as fast as Biffo drops from 10,000 feet without a parachute, massive rising unemployment, banks closed for business, the consumer not spending (and those who are do it in Newry).
Who is to blame for the disaster?
Bertie, of course! But isn’t hindsight 20/20 vision? On reflection, who was Finance Minister for the last four years when the ground was quietly crumbling beneath our feet?
Biffo the Brain was at the helm of the SS Moneybags Ireland; heading for the rocks, unknown to us, throwing our life savings over the side.
Bertie anointed Cowen as his successor.
Smiling two-faced Bertie was replaced by grumpy straight and Brainy Biffo. Sure, wasn’t the man a genius according to the spin machine?
But now it has emerged that we were duped all along. Grumpy Biffo was plain old Grumpy Biffo. The brain was missing.
The two Brians and Mary now are in charge.
Oh my God!
I think no, somehow. Our degree of influence may extend to getting Obama elected as US president but to achieve anything positive in getting Brian Cowen to run this little country of four million is beyond our realm I fear.
When Cowen was elected Taoiseach this scribe appealed for a chance to allow him show his mettle. He was carried shoulder-high around Clara and happily supped pints for the media. Here was an ordinary guy, just like Bertie, except he had a brain that would be employed for the good of the country, not protecting his political arse in Drumcondra.
Difficult times meant there was little chance of a honeymoon period normally accorded to incoming office holders. We forgave him some early lapses, wondered aloud about Mary Coughlan as his choice of Tainaiste, but left well enough alone for him and his team to get on with it.
Boy, did we get it wrong!
We know there is a world crisis, unprecedented in its force and effect. But, eighteen months ago Ireland was regarded by all and sundry across the world for the healthy position of its finances. We had fifteen good years to shore us up for the rainy day. Batten down the hatches and we’ll get over this hump, we said smugly to ourselves.
Look at us now. My God, look at us now!
Once again, we are the paupers of the world. It was all an illusion. Daggers and mirrors, as Bertie might say. We are penniless. Much worse, we owe a fortune and the perfect storm has erupted over our heads. We never put a penny by for the first rainy that came. We blew the good times.
Tax revenue falling as fast as Biffo drops from 10,000 feet without a parachute, massive rising unemployment, banks closed for business, the consumer not spending (and those who are do it in Newry).
Who is to blame for the disaster?
Bertie, of course! But isn’t hindsight 20/20 vision? On reflection, who was Finance Minister for the last four years when the ground was quietly crumbling beneath our feet?
Biffo the Brain was at the helm of the SS Moneybags Ireland; heading for the rocks, unknown to us, throwing our life savings over the side.
Bertie anointed Cowen as his successor.
Smiling two-faced Bertie was replaced by grumpy straight and Brainy Biffo. Sure, wasn’t the man a genius according to the spin machine?
But now it has emerged that we were duped all along. Grumpy Biffo was plain old Grumpy Biffo. The brain was missing.
The two Brians and Mary now are in charge.
Oh my God!
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